


No Good Deed

by Backgammon (veivei)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Disabled Character, Dark Past, Evil Shizuo, Good Izaya, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mirror Universe, References to Drugs, all kinds of other reversals, more of everything later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veivei/pseuds/Backgammon
Summary: Shizuo loses his memory. What he wakes up to isn't the regular Durarara!! universe though.Mirror Universe in which Good and Evil are reversed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MirrorUniverse

He opened his eyes and promptly closed them again. The light had blinded him and provoked a dull throb in his head. It passed right away but the bones of his skull in the back of his head were still hurting. He reasoned that must have been the result of an injury, though he couldn’t remember getting injured. That was pretty common with blows to the head though. He knew that from somewhere but couldn’t remember from where.

He was lying in bed. That was reassuring because if he were outside he would have been forced to ignore the pain, open his eyes, move and look for help and shelter. 

He could feel that bandages were wrapped around his head and the pillow was rolled under his neck so that the back of his head wasn’t touching anything. The smell of antiseptics and clean sheets made it likely he was in a hospital already.

Nothing hurt besides his head. That was good, too. He flexed his fingers a bit. They moved. His toes as well. He was thirsty but he chose to ignore that for now.

A sound of footsteps by his side caught his attention instead.

“He got what he deserved,” a female voice said. “And now that he’s down let’s think of a way to dispose of him and be done with it.” It must have been a fairly young woman. She had a pleasant voice but right now she sounded high-strung and hostile. 

He wondered if she was talking about him and his heartbeat sped up. 

“What do you mean: dispose?” a young man asked. His voice was very irritating for some reason and vaguely familiar. It was reminding him of someone he’d once known but he couldn’t remember who it was.

“If you can’t bear to do it yourself, call Kishitani,” the woman said. “He will think of something.”

He had once known someone with that last name or at least had heard about such a person somewhere but he couldn’t recall any details. He was starting to become worried about all the things he couldn’t seem to remember at this point. This conversation about ‘disposing’ of someone taking place next to him didn’t sound good either. 

“I’m not on speaking terms with Shinra,” the man said.

The woman scoffed at that.

“Sit around and do nothing then and you will be dead in no time,” she said. “Why did you even bring that monster here?”

It might not have been a hospital after all, he reasoned.

“This is what we do, Namie. We help people in need. And don’t call him a monster.”

“You’re insane. And I’m leaving. And since I’m afraid this may be the last time we’re seeing each other… Goodbye, Izaya,” the woman said, sounding more annoyed than anything.

He heard the sound of retreating footsteps and of a door closing in the distance.

The man must have still been in the room because he sighed somewhere off to the side.

“If you kill me this time around, Shizuo-kun, so be it,” he spoke up softly, sounding almost happy in a way that didn’t fit his words. “No good deed goes unpunished, right?”

Had that man spoken to him? Was his name Shizuo? It seemed right somehow, so he decided to go with it for now. 

More importantly this was not a good place for him to be with all this talk of disposing of him and him supposedly trying to kill that man. He must have been holding a grudge against him if he believed Shizuo had tried to kill him. Shizuo couldn’t remember who that man was but apparently he wasn’t a friend. 

He decided to wait until the man left the room and open his eyes then to look around and think of escape routes without raising suspicion.

The man wasn’t leaving though. The time was passing, Shizuo didn’t know how much of it, having no way to tell. He busied himself with trying to remember anything about himself but he couldn’t do that somehow. It was not that he couldn’t only remember the last few days before that blow to the head he’d apparently suffered and random things that slip one’s mind. He couldn’t remember anything. Not how he looked like, not how old he was, not how to write his own name, not his parents or his home or his family or his friends. It was terrifying. The murky emptiness in his mind where his memories used to be ached.

The man still wasn’t leaving. Nothing more was happening in the room. Shizuo tried to concentrate more, pick up more sounds. In the end he zeroed in on the man’s breathing which wasn’t easy since he was barely hearing it. The man must not have been very close to him. But once he managed to listen to his breaths for a while he figured they were as deep and regular as if the man was asleep. That was puzzling considering he could tell lights were still on in the room but he decided to take the risk and open his eyes.

There was a lamp overhead. The light that had blinded him the previous time was coming from it. Looking sideways, he saw windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, the nighttime sky outside and the lights of a big city. Tokyo, his mind supplied, for once helpfully. Ikebukuro, judging by the visible landmarks. Since he knew that did that mean he lived somewhere nearby? He couldn’t remember that.

He looked the other way. A white hospital screen was obscuring his view. He cursed inwardly. He could still hear the man’s even breathing somewhere in the room when he concentrated but he couldn’t see him to confirm he was asleep. But at least he had the advantage of that man not being able to see him either.

He looked down at his body and moved his arms and feet a little under the comforter. He could move normally and he felt fine. He reached up to his head and touched the bandages wrapped around it. Then he moved his hand to the back of his head and hissed in pain when the tips of his fingers brushed the bandages there. The injury seemed to be quite serious. He wondered if he was able to walk like that and if it was going to be life-threatening to try to leave. But he wasn’t hooked up to any machines or even a drip so his condition must not have been so bad. This place wasn’t a hospital anyway, that he was sure of after taking a look.

He sat up tentatively, trying not to make the bed squeak. He felt dizzy once he was upright and had to pause to catch his breathe but the feeling passed, settling in his stomach as a wave after wave of nausea. He moved the comforter aside. Even though he was in bed he was fully clothed. Black pants, white dress shirt. He looked into his pockets. He found spare change, cigarettes and even a lighter but no wallet or ID of any kind. 

“You’re awake.” 

He looked up abruptly, almost making himself retch with the movement when he heard the man’s voice. He saw him right next to the bed, sitting in a wheelchair. He had been expecting footsteps. Without these, the man had sneaked up on him.

A certain uneasiness overcame Shizuo at the realization the man was disabled. Though it was a good thing in a way. If he was the only person around it was going to be easier to escape him like that.

“It’s been a while, Shizuo-kun,” the man said as if that was a challenge, with a small smile and daring eyes.

Shizuo had no idea who that was. He was young, thin, black-haired. He had a pleasant face and there was even something childlike about him but at the same time, his eyes and his smile were sharp and taunting. Just like his voice had irritated Shizuo instantly earlier, he felt himself tense at the mere sight of him. 

“I want to go home,” Shizuo said. He needed to find someone who knew him and was friendly as soon as possible.

“Go ahead,” the man said with a puzzled expression. “I’d advise against it in your current condition but it’s not like I can stop you.”

Shizuo lowered his legs to the floor, put his weight onto his feet gradually, stood up and nearly puked. Thankfully his stomach seemed to be empty. He straightened up.

Apparently he was allowed to leave. Where was he supposed to go, though.

“Where’s my wallet?” he asked, the inside of his mouth so dry he could barely talk.

“It’s Ikebukuro.” The man shrugged. “Someone must have pickpocketed it before we found you.”

“Where did you find me?”

“Sunshine 60 Street. You don’t remember what happened?” The man looked vaguely interested.

Shizuo wasn’t eager to admit how much he didn’t remember. 

“I don’t,” he said.

“You must be surprised something like this could happen to you at all, Shizuo-kun.” The man smiled.

Why would he be surprised? Accidents happened to everyone. If that was even an accident.

The way this guy was calling him he was either older than him or they were or once had been colleagues. He could even be family. Shizuo had no idea how to find out which though. More importantly had he really tried to kill that man? There must have been a reason for that. But he didn’t know it.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” the man asked. “You want to ask me something?” He looked up at Shizuo, his chin raised in defiance.

“I’m leaving,” Shizuo decided. Even if he didn’t know where he lived, he could go to the police or a proper hospital and try to find help there.

He took a few steps toward the center of the room, the world swaying around him with every single one and lost his footing before he realized what had happened. The thud of his body hitting the floor resonated painfully inside his head.

“You realize I can’t help you stand back up?” the man asked.

Shizuo strived to look up, having a chance to peek behind the hospital screen now. The rest of the room was spacious and quite rundown. There was a big table in the corner with several laptops left open on it and a web of cables hanging underneath. Three beaten down leather couches stood in the middle, arranged in a U shape around the TV on the wall. Next to the front door there was a small kitchen. He couldn’t see any more doors from where he was. But most importantly there was the view out of the large windows taking up most of the wall at his side just like the one behind him, the glass panes meeting in the corner. 

“I see you like this place. That’s good. Because I’m afraid you’re staying,” the man said and wheeled himself into the kitchen. He fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, then put a plastic container in his lap and the glass inside it and brought it back. “Here.” He bent down to place it down on the floor by Shizuo’s side. “Considering it’s you, in the morning you should be able to leave.”

Shizuo pulled himself up and sat on the floor, his head hurting as if it was cracked open which it pretty much was. He drank the water greedily and wanted more but didn’t ask.

“I don’t want to be disposed of,” he said and looked at the man.

With him sitting on the floor their eyes were nearly level.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“You overheard that,” he said. “I will never attack you first, you have my word for this. But on the other hand I doubt all the people you killed wanted to be disposed of either,” the man’s voice grew irritating. 

Shizuo wondered desperately who that was, pushing the anger stirring within him down. All this talk of killing. Was that true? Was he a murderer? He didn’t feel like he was evil but he didn’t know either how that was supposed to feel.

“Namie thinks you’re a mindless monster,” the man continued. “That there is no way to stop you other than to kill you. That’s understandable. But I don’t kill. If I killed you now, how would I be any different from you or the Black Rider?”

A mindless monster. That resonated with something deep inside Shizuo. He’d heard these words before. Countless times. Why though? 

The man was looking at him as if he was expecting something. For him to turn hostile? He was injured and barely able to move. Why would he attack anyone?

He was confused. So badly confused.

“I don’t remember anything,” he blurted out.

His words hung heavily in the air between him and that man. And he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to regret them.

“Who the fuck are you?” he continued. “And who am I?”

The man blinked. Then he smiled as if it was suddenly his birthday and he’d just got the best present ever. 

“Orihara Izaya. Nice to meet you again. Your name is Heiwajima Shizuo.” 

He tried to remember that. It fit. But he still didn’t know how it was written.

“Where did we meet before?” he asked.

“High school. But we didn’t go on to be friends. You have nothing to worry about though. I’m fond of all humans. Helping people is what I do. I will help you, too,” the man, Izaya, said it seriously with a wide smile. It was a bit unsettling. “This kind of memory loss is often temporary. You may start to remember things very soon. Is there something you absolutely have to know?”

“Do I have a family?”

Izaya hesitated.

“You’re not married,” he said. “Your parents are estranged from you as far as I know. No siblings. So not really.”

“Friends?”

“Not anyone you’d like to get in contact with in your current condition. I’m sorry.”

So he intended to withhold that information.

“Did I kill someone?” Shizuo asked next.

“We’ll talk about that another time. Say, to differentiate from your previous self, can I call you Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked merrily.

“That’s a girl’s name.”

“But I like these kinds of nicknames.”

The guy was irritating. But Shizuo didn’t really care how he was called at the moment.

“Do whatever.” He shrugged.

“I believe you now.” Izaya smiled. “You’re really different.” He grew serious. “There’s one thing you have to know. Do you remember how strong you are?”

“What do you mean?”

“You will hurt people if you’re not careful. No, that doesn’t explain anything.” 

A metallic flash materialized in front of Shizuo’s face and he caught it before he realized what he was doing. Suddenly there was an open folding knife in his hand, the blade cutting into his palm. He let it drop to the floor.

“That was a demonstration,” Izaya said, leaning back into the wheelchair after having thrown the knife.

A demonstration that had nearly stabbed him. Anger twisted Shizuo’s insides. It was incredible in its intensity and something he could somehow remember well. How it had always pushed him further and further toward that place in his mind where the notion of control no longer existed.

“I knew you were going to catch it,” Izaya said.

He wheeled himself somewhere Shizuo could no longer see him, rummaged through things there, judging by the sound, and came back with a short steel pipe in his lap. “Bend this.” He dropped it in front of Shizuo.

And Shizuo took it into his hand and applied pressure to it and it bent with ease that didn’t surprise him, though maybe it should. 

“Ah, your muscle memory is obviously intact,” Izaya said. “Can you get back into the bed on your own?” he asked. “Though I guess you have no other choice.”

“I’ll manage.” Shizuo stood up and turned around. 

The few steps back to the bed were as far as he could go and he collapsed on it as soon as the edge hit his knees, nauseous and miserable. 

“You may remember everything as soon as next morning. Don’t let it bother you,” Izaya said. 

“Even if I remember, I won’t try to kill you,” Shizuo said, crawling onto the bed.

“Because I helped you? I doubt that will stop you. But thank you. I’ll get you more water. And if you need me for anything during the night, call out, I’ll hear you.”


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up from a dream he couldn’t remember. It ended in someone’s flesh giving way under his fist, ripping apart, his hand passing straight through a ribcage with a heart fluttering in his palm. 

“Nightmares?” Izaya asked by his side, probably alarmed by some sound he’d made.

Shizuo sat up without consideration for his head injury and looked down at his hand but there was nothing on it, no blood, no other things. It had been a dream. 

“Good morning,” Izaya said good-naturedly but his eyes narrowed as if he expected to be hit when Shizuo looked at him.

Shizuo’s hands clenched into fists. He tried hard to recall something but he still couldn’t remember anything other than the previous night. But the evidence that he was no good was piling up. And he didn’t feel comfortable having realized Izaya had been hovering over him while he’d been asleep for an unspecified amount of time. Not after he’d thrown a knife at him.

“How do you feel?” Izaya asked.

Thinking about it, Shizuo realized he was feeling fine. He touched the back of his head and it no longer hurt at all. Having discovered that, he became immediately annoyed by the bandages and started tugging on them.

“Fine,” he said.

Once the bandages fell to the floor he looked away from Izaya’s face and out the window by his side. The view was almost as breathtaking as it had been at night with the gentle colors of the morning sky reflected in the glass surfaces of the highrises.

Still, he scowled. He wanted to smoke. There were cigarettes in his pocket and he took the blue packet out and looked it over but it didn’t even look familiar. He wanted one anyway, badly. And all this time he could feel Izaya’s eyes on him.

He put the cigarettes back into his pocket, moved away the comforter and got out of the bed. He felt normal, he supposed. His skin was itching all over and he could have used a shower and a change of clothes but that was not his most immediate problem. Rather, he wondered if he should leave and look for help and information elsewhere now that he’d healed. Izaya knew him but he’d also told him outright that he wasn’t his friend. That didn’t bode well. He was also creepy in an extremely irritating way and Shizuo couldn’t stop himself from thinking badly of him even despite the fact that he was helping him. With Shizuo towering over him now that he was standing, he was looking uneasy but was also doing his best to hide it behind a smile. Shizuo wondered how come he was able to read him like that. This ability seemed strangely overdeveloped in him for them to just be random acquaintances but all he knew was that he’d supposedly tried to kill him.

“What did I do to you, Izaya-kun?” he asked.

He felt the power to intimidate Izaya into answering at his fingertips with how he was squirming in his wheelchair and he enjoyed it even though he knew it was wrong.

“You still don’t remember anything.” Izaya exhaled and relaxed.

“I remember some things,” Shizuo said, thinking back to his dream. 

“But not what you did to me?” Izaya asked in a carefully neutral voice. “I’ve already forgiven you. It’s nothing we need to talk about anytime soon. Now, Namie will come to work in a bit. She’ll take a look at you.” He smiled. “She took care of you yesterday, too. You shouldn’t think ill of her despite what you heard her say. After that’s done we’ll talk and you’ll decide what you want to do...”

“His wheelchair is thanks to you, Heiwajima Shizuo-san,” another voice spoke up from behind the hospital screen. “Hello.” A short boy in a school uniform emerged from behind it. He looked no older than fifteen. He was smiling but there was something off about his smile. “Now, was that so difficult, Izaya-san?” he asked. “I’m Kuronuma Aoba,” he addressed Shizuo. “Nice to meet you, Heiwajima-san,” he said with a bow.

Izaya glared at him, obviously annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” Izaya said, looking apologetic as soon as he faced Shizuo again. “Aoba-kun can’t behave. Why aren’t you at school anyway?” he asked the boy.

“Namie-san called me and asked me to come check if you’re still alive before she shows up herself, Izaya-san,” the boy answered with a smile. “But I see you fare pretty well. I assume Heiwajima-san still doesn’t remember much? You should tell him who he is, though. It’s not like you can hide it from him for long.”

“You should stay out of this, that’s for sure,” Izaya said.

“Why should I?” Aoba asked. “You’ll be asking for my help soon enough anyway with how you are now, Izaya-san. And I’m quite a bit curious about Heiwajima-san. So you can count on me.” He smiled. “But I have to go now if I don’t want to miss any more classes. I’ll call Namie-san on the way. See you later.” The boy waved and left just like that.

Shizuo wondered who he was. He didn’t seem familiar to him the way Izaya seemed to be but there was something about him and his wry smile that made him vaguely similar to Izaya. Shizuo figured he might have been his little brother though they had different last names and they didn’t really look much alike but decided not to dwell on that in the face of what he’d just learned.

“Is that true?” he asked. “The wheelchair?”

“We fought,” Izaya said right away. “It’s not like I wasn’t trying to hurt you, too. It’s not something I’m proud of either but it needed to be done. I lost to you and you did that to me. But I don’t hold it against you, Shizu-chan,” he was quick to add. “I will walk again, it’s only a matter of time. Though I guess now that Aoba-kun told you, there are several more questions that you’d like answered. Tea?” he offered with a smile.

“No, no tea,” Shizuo said, exasperated. 

“Answers then? I am what you might call a good person,” Izaya said confidently. “I’m really doing my best, even if it’s not easy, especially in a place like this. Ikebukuro has its fair share of what are commonly called monsters. And it has been like that for a while. Supposedly, this may have something to do with the Black Rider appearing years ago. But I guess you will learn about that soon enough. As for you, your problem has been propensity for extreme violence. You killed countless people because of it but you were never successfully persecuted thanks to your inhuman strength. Not many people tried to oppose you, even less could manage to do that and live to tell the tale. I fought you regularly. There were times when I managed to save your victims. For that reason alone it was worth it to confront you. Honestly, I would have fought you even if it meant getting killed on the first try but I almost always managed to walk away unharmed. I think you were playing with me. Maybe I made the mistake of starting to play with you, too. But I was hoping that if I just kept at it long enough, one day I’d uncover something about you that would let me change your ways. The last time we’ve seen each other, you attacked a little girl. I tried to help her. But this time around I don’t think you held back at all. Maybe because I went all out, too. I felt vindicated to kill you since it was about a child. And I was punished for letting myself think like that. Rightfully. Since I strayed from my path.”

Monsters. And him being one of them. So there was somewhere he belonged. It was not a place he yearned to go back to but maybe that was all there was to him.

“Did you save that little girl?” he asked.

“No. She’s dead,” Izaya answered without hesitation. “You made sure of that after you were done with me.”

Shizuo felt sick. The memory of his dream flashed before his eyes.

“I have to leave,” he said and headed straight to the door. 

He could understand how it might have been impossible to capture him and convict him but if he went to the police himself surely he was going to be taken in?

“Shizu-chan, in the end my sacrifice paid off,” Izaya spoke up from behind him. “I learned my lesson. And this happened to you. Just don’t let it go to waste now. With the way you are, you can finally become something different.”

Shizuo looked at Izaya over his shoulder.

“I had nothing to do with your head injury,” Izaya was quick to deny. “But I did find you when you were like that. Me, of all people.”

How could one be a good guy and still feel this fishy, Shizuo couldn’t understand that. He didn’t doubt Izaya’s story as such but he was suspicious about the details in ways he couldn’t voice. That was probably wrong, too. Considering what he’d done to him.

“You should have called the police,” he said.

“They wouldn’t have treated you like a human being at all at this point. And that’s not something I can get behind. Even if you were to wake up and kill me right away. Here, I can offer you ways to actually redeem yourself. Police will just cage you.“

“How come I’m so strong?"

“You just are. It seems it was something that developed in your childhood,” Izaya said thoughtfully. “But it still doesn’t make you any less human. Don’t let anyone ever convince you of that again. And let me help you prove everyone wrong.” 

‘And prove you right?’ Shizuo thought.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “ Don’t I already have a job? Someplace to go back to?”

“Is this what you want? Go back to the way you were?” Izaya asked, suddenly angry. 

Shizuo could feel himself becoming angry at him in turn. He supposed that if he actually knew who he was and what were his reasons for doing what he’d done, he would have not tolerated someone insisting he should change the way Izaya did. As if he knew so much better. As if being as good as he claimed to be gave him the right to be above everyone else. 

But Shizuo didn’t know who he was. He didn’t feel justified to defend his old ways because they had been clearly wrong. Even if that was giving Izaya the upper hand, he was still confused about who he’d been.

“I don’t know anything,” he said in the end.

“You don’t trust me?” Izaya wheeled himself to his desk.

Shizuo followed him and watched him rummage through the drawers until he retrieved a photo album. 

“Look. Us. In high school.” He opened the album and showed a photo to Shizuo.

There were three boys in school uniforms in it. One was younger Izaya. The one in the middle was short and wore glasses so Shizuo figured he must have been the tall one with blond hair by his other side. He touched his hair instinctively, wondering what color it even was at the moment. The high school him was scowling in the photo, clearly displeased with the situation at hand even while the other two were smiling.

“Who’s that?” He pointed to the boy standing between him and Izaya in the photo.

“Kishitani.” 

“You talked about him yesterday,” Shizuo noted.

So that was probably why his name had seemed familiar when Shizuo had heard it. He knew him from school, too.

“Yes, I did. He went on to involve himself with the dark side of things,” Izaya said bitterly, closing the photo album. “But there might still be hope for him, too. I’ll try to...“ The sound of the door opening interrupted him. “Ah, it’s you, Namie.” Izaya smiled at the woman who’d entered the office. “As you can see, I’m still alive,” he pointed out. “It was quite endearing how you sent Aoba-kun to check on me first before coming here. Were you afraid?”

“Better safe than sorry,” the woman said while taking off her coat. Shizuo had heard her voice already yesterday. She was very attractive but her beauty was marred by a scowl. 

“This is Yagiri Namie, she’s a doctor, among other things, and she’s working with me,” Izaya said.

“Unfortunately,” she said right away. 

“Working on what?” Shizuo asked.

“Whatever’s necessary to make things better in this city,” she said, as if that sufficed for an explanation. “Though Izaya’s ideas about that often backfire. But he’s good at securing funding. And since all of us have to eat sometimes, a few people stick by him.”

That didn’t really answer Shizuo’s question. But he figured maybe his confusion was just caused by his memory loss. His distrust of these people might have been something left over from his previous self. And he realized he didn’t really want to go back to being that. The trepidation he felt thinking about his dream had convinced him of that. And if he really wanted to become a better person, maybe this was really his best or only chance.

“Are you leaving?” Namie asked him and looked at him expectantly. 

“I’d like to go home,” Shizuo said. “But I think I will come back here later.”

“Welcome on board, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said quickly, smiling triumphantly at Namie.

~~~

“Is Izaya your brother, Aoba-kun?” Shizuo asked the boy who was leading the way to his place through the Ikebukuro streets.

“That’s good, Heiwajima-san.” Aoba laughed at the question. “No, I just work with him sometimes. He has twin sisters who are my age, though.”

Shizuo wondered what a high-schooler could have been working on with Izaya but didn’t ask since he didn’t expect to get a straight answer from this boy. That seemed to be the pattern with Izaya’s entourage.

The people on the streets were acting strange once they took a look at Shizuo’s face. They lowered their gaze, kept their distance and scurried away as soon as they thought he couldn’t see what they were doing. 

It was afternoon. Earlier in the day Shizuo had got checked up by Namie, deemed to be completely healed already which had been puzzling to him but Izaya had explained how it was also usual for him. Then he took a shower and a good look at himself in the bathroom mirror. Not recognizing the face reflected back at him was very off-putting, as if someone had put a mask on him that couldn’t be removed. But what would have been under it anyway? Nothingness? A blank slate? It wasn’t exactly his face but it was also the only face he was ever going to have so he memorized its features the best he could and ran a hand through the coarse dyed hair wondering if he should keep it blond. He had to wear his dirty clothes again because nothing Izaya had brought him to try on fit him. He went outside for a smoke and saw the fear in the eyes of the passersby for the first time. This face he had was apparently well-known and he realized he wasn’t ever going to get a chance to make the first impression on most people as his current self. He threw away the half-smoked cigarette and retreated back to Izaya’s place with relief he didn’t want but still could feel. At least they didn’t fear him. He ate a meal with Izaya and Namie. They were bickering the whole time as if they were married. He asked them if they were. Izaya laughed at that. Namie scowled and muttered something about being otherwise taken. Some time later Aoba came over again to take Shizuo to where he used to live. He was still wearing his school uniform and it was the same one as the one Shizuo himself had been wearing in that high school photo Izaya had shown him. He’d learned the school was called Raira.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me, Aoba-kun?” he asked, watching yet more people run away from him, powerless to stop them from doing that.

“You haven’t killed Izaya-san all day, Heiwajima-san,” Aoba said. “That pretty much means you won’t attack anyone for now. He was the one person you always chased, back when he could still run.”

That reasoning wasn’t sound enough to explain the boy’s lack of fear rationally, Shizuo thought. Izaya was apparently surrounded by a bunch of people as weird as him.

A light drizzle started falling and Shizuo shivered in his dress shirt. He could have really used a jacket of some kind, not to mention clean clothes.

“It’s close by now,” Aoba said. “We don’t have the keys, though, since you didn’t have these on you when we found you yesterday. You’ll have to break down the door. But that shouldn’t be a problem, right?” He smiled.

They stopped to wait for a green light. In the sea of traffic on the street in front of them a black shape appeared and the cars around it parted, letting it pass, even though it was moving without making a sound of any kind. It was a motorbike that looked as if it was made of darkness itself. Shizuo knew instantly that he’d seen it already before his memory loss. The amazement he’d felt witnessing its passage for the first time was not something that could be ever replicated, he supposed, even though he wasn’t sure how he knew that. Either way he remembered something.

“The Black Rider,” Aoba whispered. “Not good.”

Shizuo had heard this name here and there, slipping its way into conversations. It was one of the monsters. The original monster, even.

The strange vehicle glided toward him and stopped right in front of him. The rider, clad all in black save for the yellow helmet with cat ears, took out a phone and typed something quickly before showing Shizuo the message on the screen.

/What’s up?/

A mundane question like that. Shizuo blinked. Not easy to answer in his situation though.

“Everything’s fine,” he said instinctively, not even sure if he was supposed to answer by speaking.

/Text me if you need me for anything./ Was the reply.

“Sure,” he said, trying to sound casual.

The bike drove away just like that and Shizuo felt relief wash over him. He looked around for Aoba who was gone from his side and saw him mingling with a crowd of scared people cowering away on the sidewalk. Shizuo figured since both him and the Black Rider provoked fear witnessing both at the same time must have really got to people.

“Hopefully she didn’t notice we were together.” Aoba said, rejoining Shizuo’s side to cross the street. 

“She?” 

“Yes, she’s a woman. A lot of people don’t know that, though. You don’t remember anything about her?”

“Not really,” Shizuo said, not recalling any more details other than what he’d randomly remembered of his first time seeing that creature.

“She’s not human. I know how that sounds…” Aoba hesitated.

“I can see that,” Shizuo said. After taking a look at the Black Rider from up close it would have been difficult to argue it was human.

He accepted that fact with surprising ease, though. Maybe because it was something he’d known before. That would have been expected, considering the Black Rider had apparently been his acquaintance. That one exchange seemed to have transpired without him having to admit he didn’t remember anything but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with anyone else approaching him.

Aoba continued leading the way to what was supposedly his place. Shizuo didn’t recognize the neighbourhood nor the apartment building nor the door he had to break down since nobody was opening it. Under his fist, it fell easily and he stepped over it to get inside.

Aoba followed him and started snooping around rather shamelessly right away. That wasn’t making Shizuo happy but he couldn’t see what he could do about it. 

It was a small apartment, just two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom but it looked nice and was quite neat. It was Western style with furniture that seemed expensive. It had normal windows and a mundane view onto the street in front of the building. There were no signs of a live-in girlfriend anywhere or of any other people but the only occupant of the place. Shizuo supposed that was really him since the clothes and the shoes fit him when he went to change in the bedroom and he found some documents with his name and photo there.

“The crew to make the new door will arrive shortly,” Aoba informed him when Shizuo opened the bedroom door. “It’s already been paid. There is some food in the kitchen. I looked. You should be fine, Heiwajima-san.”

He certainly didn’t need a high-schooler babysitting him but refrained from saying that.

“So I guess I’ll be going,” Aoba said. “Unless there’s something you want to ask me first. Who knows when we will have the chance to talk again without Izaya-san around,” he offered with a smile.

Shizuo considered that. Why the kid was willing to tell him anything behind Izaya’s back was puzzling but he decided not to dwell on that for now and thought of a question instead.

“I guess I’d like to know how it all started,” he said in the end. “I don’t know if you even know that, though. Izaya has shown me a photo of me and him in high school. We might not have been friends but I wasn't killing him in it.”

“So you want to know how you went from that to you being feared and Izaya-san doing what he does, Heiwajima-san?” Aoba figured.

“Yes.”

“This won’t be something Izaya-san will be ever eager to talk to you about,” Aoba warned, his smile disappearing. “From what I've heard you killed his girlfriend back in high school. It must have been after that photo was taken because you dropped out of school after that. Izaya-san has his reasons, Heiwajima-san. We all do, actually. Extending a hand to you doesn’t come easy to anyone. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that.” Aoba’s smile returned and he continued good-naturedly, “I’ll be going, Heiwajima-san. Take care.”

Shizuo nodded and Aoba left.

Shizuo took a deep breath. He’d just been threatened by a high schooler. But Aoba most likely had a point and Shizuo convinced himself he had no right to be angry at him or anyone else. He still was and couldn't stop, though.

He busied himself with continuing to look around the apartment to calm down. He didn’t find any photos but he had a computer he couldn’t log into and maybe some were on the hard drive. Getting the data out of there had to wait for now, if it was even possible without remembering the password. The food in the kitchen looked good to him. There was a lot of milk of various flavors in the fridge. He supposed he must have liked those.

There was no food in the freezer. It was full of money instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Aoba's birthday. Kind of fitting, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Awakusu Mikiya went to his daughter’s grave at the exact same time every day. In the morning, early enough to be done and back before work. As fall was approaching it was getting increasingly cold and for the first time Shiki wore a coat over his suit when he accompanied him to the cemetery. 

Otherwise everything was the same as on any other day in the past four months. When Shiki and his boss got out of the limousine at the gate, there was no one around at such an early hour. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and the morning fog was lingering between the graves when they entered the cemetery.

Then Shiki spotted Orihara, in a wheelchair now, just like he’d heard he was, bending over a different grave than the one he was heading towards with Mikiya.

“Go talk to him,” Mikiya said, motioning with his head in Orihara’s direction, before walking on, his security following him closely.

Shiki did as he was told and headed towards Orihara. He hadn't seen him since Awakusu Akane’s death but Orihara didn’t appear to have changed other than being disabled now. He was still wearing the same fur-lined jacket and looked at Shiki with the same sharpness in his eyes.

“Shiki-san.” He nodded in acknowledgment. 

Incense sticks were burning in a vase at the base of the grave he was in front of and the stones were wet after the cleansing. A wooden bucket and a ladle were lying nearby. 

Orihara took some more incense sticks out of his pocket, reached down to put them in the vase and lit them up with a match. 

“Are you here for Akane-chan, Shiki-san?” he asked when he straightened up.

“Yes.” Shiki nodded.

“It’s the first time I came here since I’m like this. I didn’t know Akane-chan was also here.”

Shiki wasn’t convinced Orihara didn’t know where Akane’s grave was and at what time Mikiya was visiting it every day. It would have been quite unlike him. 

“It’s a hassle to get here when I’m like this.” Orihara sighed.

Strangely enough he was alone and Shiki couldn’t see anyone else around even though most likely someone had helped him move around the cemetery.

“Whose grave is this, Orihara-san?” he asked, motioning to the grave in front of them with his head.

“High school friend’s. She was killed by Heiwajima Shizuo just like Akane-chan. Years ago.”

“Heiwajima has been seen lying in the street unconscious and bleeding from his head two days ago, hasn’t he?” Shiki asked.

He looked up at the sky. The clouds were pale pink, colored by the rising sun.

“Is that so?” Orihara asked.

“Are you losing your edge, Orihara-san? Is there still something you do know about?”

“I’m doing my best, Shiki-san. How is Awakusu-san coping after Akane-chan’s death?” 

“You should be able to imagine.”

Actually not only Mikiya and his father but also the whole company had plunged into darkness and hadn’t really recovered even though it had been months. Everyone was still wearing black to work and talking in hushed voices at the office.

“Your company keeps on sending money to me but nobody contacted me even once since Akane-chan’s death,” Orihara said, confirming Shiki’s suspicion that this likely wasn’t a chance meeting.

“You have nothing to worry about, Orihara-san. After you risked your life trying to save the boss’s daughter he will keep on sending money to you as long as he has any. However, if we never recoup our Ikebukuro investments we will go under one day. So far the real estate here only keeps on getting cheaper and cheaper. Though if Heiwajima doesn’t reappear now it may start getting better. But there are still other problems.”

“I’m working on it.”

“That’s good. Because in the end while you may be running a charity, Orihara-san, we don’t.”

“Heiwajima isn’t dead though.” 

That would have been too fortunate, Shiki thought. Thanks to him, the Black Rider, the Slasher and the violent gangs, Ikebukuro was a place that people moved out of in droves. Empty apartments and whole buildings could be bought cheaply but as long as the situation didn’t get any better, they were barely worth anything no matter the convenient location. After all it was better to have a longer commute than to disappear off the street forever or lose a child to a monster’s blind fury.

Orihara turned away to look at the grave. There was none of the usual arrogance on his face. Shiki used the opportunity to do his best to memorize the kanji of the name engraved on the stone.

“I’ll be going,” he said a moment later.

Orihara nodded. He was probably going to be stuck in place until whoever had helped him get here in the first place reemerged. Being in such a helpless state must have been tough for him, Shiki thought. But of course he was doing his best to keep up pretenses.

Shiki walked away in the direction of Akane’s grave. He made a mental note to look up the person whose grave Orihara was visiting later. If it had really been Heiwajima’s victim there should have been some information to find. The press had always been fond of describing the mysterious disappearances in Ikebukuro.

By the time Shiki was going back to the gate with Mikiya ten minutes later, Orihara had already left.

“Did Orihara want something?” Mikiya asked, as if he only remembered about him then.

“He wondered why we didn’t contact him all these months,” Shiki said. “He made it seem like a chance meeting though.” 

“So he’s back at it,” Mikiya sounded impressed. “I thought after what happened to him we shouldn’t expect anything more from him. I presumed he would just leave. I myself would have left if I could,” he said bitterly.

“That’s what a sane person might have done.”

“Well, since he’s still around, have an eye on him from now on again.”

“Of course.” Shiki nodded in acknowledgment.

~~~

Shizuo left his apartment in the morning wearing a black hoodie he’d found in the closet with the hood pulled so low over his head his blond hair and half his face were hidden. When he was like that, he didn’t provoke instant fear in the other passersby, though he was still looked at distrustfully. He’d already learned it was the start of fall but by the time he went out it was warm and sunny, making his hood an unconventional choice. It was far better than the alternative, though. 

He was wary of the possibility of meeting more acquaintances of the old him, too. He figured he must have been involved in some shady dealings other than just randomly killing people to earn the kind of money that was hidden in various places around his apartment. He’d also watched the local news previous night. People were apparently disappearing without a trace around this place at an alarming rate. And he’d already heard that from Izaya but the same thing had been repeated on TV: Ikebukuro was like this because of the Black Rider. Him knowing that creature might have indicated he’d been involved with these mysterious disappearances as well. Who knew, maybe the Black Rider needed to eat people to continue living. He abandoned that train of thought, unsettled by the imagery.

There was also something else he’d found at his place last night. A single photo, hidden at the very bottom of the nightstand drawer. He put his hand into his pocket to run his fingers over its smooth surface to confirm he still had it with him. Hopefully it held some answers. He wasn’t sure if he should ask Izaya for them but he figured it was still his best bet.

He walked all the way to Izaya’s office despite the distance being quite significant to look some more around the surroundings, hoping to remember something or find out more. There was something in the air of this city that he didn’t like at all. The smell of fear and despair was radiating both off people and off the streets and buildings, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Maybe leaving this place was the best course of action he could take, he thought. If he used all the money hidden around his apartment that should be possible, too. But if he’d really caused some of that suffering himself, was leaving an acceptable thing to do as a human being? Shouldn’t he first try to understand what he’d done and possibly atone? Could he have lived with himself otherwise? With no answers? And dreams like that? And the blame?

When he reached the building where Izaya's office was, he stopped to have a smoke in front of it before heading inside. He enjoyed the calming effect of cigarettes when nobody was staring at him in fear. This was not a good habit to have but he didn’t think he was going to be able to stop it if he wanted to keep his emotions in check. He went to the elevator when he finished the cigarette and once upstairs, he knocked on Izaya's door. Namie opened it a little.

“Izaya’s not here,” she said right away, holding onto it and not letting him in.

“I can wait,” Shizuo said, becoming slightly irritated at the way she was treating him.

“You shouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

She turned around and walked away, leaving the door open though. He stepped inside. Just like the previous day Namie was clearly displeased with him being there. She sat down in front of a laptop on the desk and started typing, staring at the screen pointedly. Shizuo still didn’t understand what she could have possibly been doing.

“Do you know who that is?” He took out the photo he had in his pocket and asked her, putting it on the desk in front of her.

“I have no idea,” she answered without taking a glance. 

“Is there a reason why you’re treating me like this?” he asked, doing his best not to sound out right threatening.

Namie still looked at him warily from over the laptop’s screen.

“You’re a monster,” she said without hesitation. “You have been indiscriminately killing people for years. You made this place the approximation of Hell that it is. So what kind of question is that?”

“Did I do anything to someone close to you?”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did, Heiwajima-san,” she said seriously. “I could have made sure you died when Izaya brought you here with that head injury, you know. You may be tough. But you’re not immortal.”

“So why all you did was suggesting to dispose of me?”

“Because I didn’t want the sole responsibility for your death. You see, for most people it is not easy to kill someone,” she sounded out right disgusted at this point.

Shizuo felt his fists clench on their own by his sides. The torrent of emotions inside him was suddenly so powerful red mist clouded his vision and through it he could see her eyes, cold and defiant at the same time, and he could tell that this was turning ugly.

“I see you two still don’t get along at all,” Izaya spoke up from behind him.

Shizuo looked at him over his shoulder and instantly got even more angry but then he took in the wheelchair and thinking back to the fact that this had been caused by him he found the resolve to calm down a bit.

“It’s good you came back, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said with a careful smile before moving closer. “I talked with Shiki, Namie,” he addressed her. “There’s no problem for now.”

“Of course,” Namie answered mockingly. “Shiki will certainly be happy about you helping Heiwajima of all people once he finds out about that. His bosses are surely going to appreciate it as well.”

“It’s not something they have to find out anytime soon.” Izaya took off his jacket and put it on a chair.

“But once they do find out, you’ll have no more money. And I will be out of here,” Namie said.

“Don’t let the way she acts bother you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya turned around and said to Shizuo. “How did you like your place?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s fine.” Shizuo shrugged, choosing to keep a few secrets of his own. “I found something there.”

He picked the photo up from the desk and handed it to Izaya.

“Do you know who that is?” he asked.

There were two kids in that photo, one was him, Shizuo assumed, with his hair not yet dyed blond but with the same scowl on his face as on the high school photo Izaya had, the other shorter and probably younger, not smiling either.

“I didn’t know you back then,” Izaya said, looking at the photo closely. “Kishitani may know though. He went to elementary school with you.”

“Can you ask him?”

“No.” Izaya shook his head. “I don’t talk to him. You may have a chance to ask him yourself one day though.”

He gave the photo back to Shizuo.

“Can’t you contact him?”

“No. I mean what I said,” Izaya said seriously.

“He’s ridiculous about this like that,” Namie spoke up. “There’s no use asking him.”

“I met the Black Rider, too,” Shizuo said.

Izaya looked instantly alarmed.

“You’ve seen it on the street?” he asked.

“She stopped in front of me. I talked to her for a bit. Well, she typed a message on her phone and showed me.”

“That’s because she doesn’t have a head,” Izaya said as if that was nothing unusual.

A memory of seeing that headlessness with his own eyes suddenly emerged in Shizuo’s mind as the image of the Black Rider with her helmet off, holding it in her gloved hands. There was nothing above her neck indeed and only a swirl of black shadow was escaping it. This must have been so incredible to witness the memory had somehow survived, Shizuo figured. The Black Rider was apparently not human for real, actually anything but.

“I remember that,” he said before he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have when Namie looked at him sharply.

“I told you some things from your past may come back to you with time,” Izaya said calmly. “Maybe even everything. What did she say to you?”

“It was just small talk. She didn’t ask me anything or become suspicious, I think.”

“That's good. You knew her. As far as I could tell, very well.”

Shizuo realized the Black Rider, however unusual she was, might have had more answers for him than Izaya. He didn’t wish to contact her though, instinctively apprehensive about approaching something so inhuman. He could imagine what might have had pushed him to interact with her before though. He’d been a monster like her, shunned by other humans for it. Sharing his plight, she might have been more accepting of him than his own kind.

“Why are people so afraid of her?” he asked. “What did she do?”

“There are rumors she makes people disappear," Izaya said. "What’s certain is that this place wasn’t all that bad before she appeared twenty years ago. It’s like she was the harbinger of everything that happened later.” Izaya's face grew somber, his eyebrows drawn together. “She’s also not human. And I don’t think she’s meant to be among us like that at all. It’s just unnatural.”

Apparently Izaya's good heart didn't stop him from judging what he considered monsters harshly.

“So there’s no real proof she’s done anything wrong?” Shizuo asked thoughtfully.

“Mysterious disappearances. Hundreds of them, Shizu-chan. That started at the same time she appeared and can’t be ever traced back to you or the gangs or anyone else. Unless there’s some unknown entity around responsible for these and intent on putting the blame on her, there is no other way this could have happened but by her hand. She’s also not human. It’s not out of the question that she has her ways of not leaving any evidence. But yes, there’s no definitive proof that she's responsible for anything."

The Black Rider, however inhuman it appeared to be, might have been less of a monster than himself then, Shizuo realized. There was at least a chance that she might have been just misunderstood. The blood on his own hands was definitely real though, wasn't it?

“My goal is to get rid of the Black Rider,” Izaya declared. “That will be the start of really making things better around here.”

“You said you don’t kill.”

“I don’t,” Izaya confirmed. “I wouldn’t even kill a monster like her, if that’s even possible in the first place. It’s not about killing her though. She’s a creature without a head. But what she actually is, a Dullahan, is a fairy who carries her head under her arm at all times. What I learned is that her head was stolen from her twenty years ago and she arrived here to look for it. If I return it to her I think she may be willing, if not even forced, to leave this place forever. That’s why I’m looking for it.”

“You said she’s been looking for her head herself for twenty years. If she couldn't find it, what makes you think you would?” Shizuo couldn’t understand why Izaya was so sure of himself.

“That’s the kind of useless thing he attempts to do,” Namie spoke up. “And makes others help him with.”

“The Black Rider was your friend, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, not discouraged by Namie’s comment in the slightest. “Even if you don’t remember that. And what I’m trying to do is help her. And save this place while at it. This is what I’d like you to work with me on. It’s not a bad deal, right?” he asked encouragingly. “I will pay you so you can keep your place and don’t have to go back to doing whatever you were doing before. Do you know the Black Rider actually has a name, too? Do you remember it?”

Shizuo shook his head.

“It’s Celty,” Izaya said.

That didn’t stir any memory but Izaya was looking at him intently, as if he hoped for some unusual reaction.

“Do you know where to look for that head?” Shizuo asked.

“I have my theories. It is around here,” Izaya answered vaguely.

“And other than looking for the Black Rider’s head, what is it that you all do?”

“Well, Shizu-chan, I did various things before,” Izaya said. “But now that I can’t walk anymore do you expect me to run around the city looking for people to save?” He asked, looking Shizuo right in the eye.

Shizuo had no answer to that.

“Exactly,” Izaya said after a moment of silence. “I spend my days on rehabilitation hoping to walk again one day, the sooner the better. You can assume that is most of what I do now.”

“I’m sorry, Izaya,” Shizuo said quickly, unable to stand Izaya's gaze.

“Well, I’m happy you’re saying that but it was not really your fault, was it?” Izaya smiled up at Shizuo. “You’re a different person now. That’s what you should concentrate on.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’m any different when people run away from me on the streets.”

“Actually, Shizu-chan, there is a big difference. Because you used to enjoy that.”

~~~

Sharaku Mikage had been seventeen when she’d died. A high school student indeed, she’d attended the same school as Orihara. The same one as Heiwajima Shizuo too, for that matter. Her demise hadn’t been a mysterious disappearance. Her body had been found on the school grounds, beaten to death. That was the extent of the information in the report Shiki had received from one of the analysts at his company whom he’d asked to compile one. The accompanying photo was quite grainy and in black and white. It showed the face of a teenage girl with short hair and defiant eyes.

That report explained nothing, Shiki thought, putting it away, but he didn’t expect anything more. At the very least it proved Orihara hadn’t lied to him about having a grave to visit. Not that Shiki had ever caught Orihara out right lying before. Rather, when Orihara used deception, it was always subtle enough that he could probably explain it away easily despite his constant claims of being a righteous person. 

Orihara’s efforts at exclusively doing good were like a joke considering how tainted he was by the mere fact of taking Awakusu’s money. But that was something he wasn’t aware of himself, most likely. The company appeared to be perfectly legitimate after all and the business had legal parts indeed but it was all underpinned by the one thing that sold best when people’s utmost interest was forgetting the awfulness of their surroundings and the extent of their losses. 

Shiki’s cell phone rang and he picked it up after looking at the name of the caller.

“I’d appreciate it if you sent a clean up crew my way,” Akabayashi said at the other end of the line.

“What happened?” 

“I happened upon a few punks pushing drugs in our territory.” 

“How many?” Shiki asked calmly.

“Three.”

“Text me the address, Akabayashi. And by the way, send someone over today to pick up the shipment.”

Shiki hang up with that, not waiting for an answer. The shipment was ready, all it needed was wrapping up. It was staring at Shiki from the edge of his desk with unseeing eyes of a taxidermy fox. A useless object that was actually unbelievably valuable thanks to the extra contents of its stomach.

The text with the address arrived. Shiki took a look at it and started making arrangements for the clean up crew to head to that location as quickly as possible. 

And that was how the toll of mysterious disappearances in Ikebukuro was going to rise by three in the next few days, he thought. Business as usual.


	4. Chapter 4

Shizuo was watching the evening news in his living room when the phone rang. Even though the sound was too muted, he took out the smartphone Izaya had given him earlier in the day and looked at it first. It wasn’t ringing. It was only then that he realized a phone must have been hidden somewhere in the apartment. He raced to find it without thinking through the consequences of answering any calls obviously directed at the old him. He found it in the chest of drawers in the hall, under some things he threw out carelessly onto the floor to get to it, still blaring a generic ring tone from the tinny speaker. It was a simple cell phone, not a smartphone, so it was probably able to hold its charge for several days concealed in there. The name on the screen was ‘Kishitani’ and Shizuo picked up eagerly when he saw it.

He didn’t know what to say once he did, though, his heartbeat only speeding up at the realization what he might have been getting himself into. He listened to the sound of breathing at the other end of the line and waited.

“Are you alright, Shizuo-kun?” a male voice asked in the end. It had a certain gentleness to it.

“Yes.” 

“That’s good. There have been rumors someone managed to hurt you pretty badly a few days ago. And you didn’t show up to get patched up so me and Celty grew worried for a while there, you know, until Celty saw you in the street yesterday. But she said you acted a bit weird. Also, about work…”

“I need to see you,” Shizuo said, the determination to let this man know about his condition in order to get more answers settling in his stomach. He didn’t want to talk about such things on the phone though with someone whose face he only knew from an old photo.

“Sure, come over. Do you need medical care?”

“I don’t know where you live,” Shizuo admitted. “I forgot a lot of things. After that injury.”

A long silence followed.

“Was it a hit to the head?” the man asked in the end.

“Yes. And I have questions.”

“I bet you do. I’ll text you the address. Will you be able to get here on your own?” the man sounded concerned.

“Yes. I’m fine. Other than that memory problem.”

“I’ll be waiting, Shizuo-kun. Just…” the man hesitated. “Don’t get scared of what you’ll see when you come here, if you don’t remember that. You didn’t have problems with this before but at first it can be quite shocking, I guess.”

“I’ll be fine.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Shizuo ended the call. He took a deep breath before looking the cell phone over while waiting for the text to arrive. Once it did, he used the smartphone he’d got from Izaya and typed the address into the map application. The location wasn’t very far away. Then he looked into the contact list of the cell phone he’d found. There were only two more numbers there other than ‘Kishitani’: ‘Celty’ and ‘Kadota’. Celty was the name of the Black Rider. The other name was unfamiliar to Shizuo. Other than that there were no old text messages left over and the call log was empty save for the one call he’d answered. With the dearth of saved contacts and how it’d been hidden, Shizuo doubted this had been his only phone. But finding it was still better than nothing.

A bit unsettled by the man’s warning Shizuo decided to give Izaya a call to let him know where he was going. That might have been unnecessary, he thought only after having already selected the number, but it was too late for reconsideration. Izaya picked up immediately.

“What’s up, Shizu-chan?” he asked in a delighted voice.

Shizuo was getting amazed at the amount of goodwill Izaya exercised towards him despite what he’d done to him. One could argue it was almost pathological.

“Kishitani called me,” he said. “I mean, I found another phone at my place and he called it,” he explained. “And I set up a meeting with him.”

“Because you want to ask him about that photo you showed me?” Izaya asked, the mirth gone from his voice.

“He was our classmate, right? I thought it wouldn’t be so bad to get in contact with him.”

“We already talked about the Black Rider, Shizu-chan. Kishitani actually lives with her. That’s the problem. They’re lovers, pretty much, however strange the notion of lusting after something headless may seem. The disappearances I told you about, Kishitani has a hand in them.”

“You also said there was no proof.”

“That was an oversimplification. There is not enough proof but there is some proof, also of Shinra’s involvement. You shouldn’t meet him. That’s my opinion. But I can’t stop you. The Black Rider is very powerful though, so at least be careful. And let me know when you get back.”

“Is it because of Kishitani’s relationship with the Black Rider that you don’t talk to him?”

“That’s more complicated than that, actually.” Izaya sighed. “He showed his true colors to me already in middle school but I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for some more time. But then I understood how he was irredeemable as long as the Black Rider was around. Either way, take care, Shizu-chan.”

“I will. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Good luck then,” Izaya hang up with that.

Shizuo felt somewhat uneasy. For the briefest moment, he considered not going anywhere. But he wanted to know who that boy in the childhood photo with him was too badly to pass up on this opportunity, no matter what Izaya thought about it.

He put on a jacket, hid the photo in the inside pocket and left. He walked to the place Shinra had told him to come to on foot, with the hood over his head and looking down at the ground intently. Dressed like that, late in the evening, he didn’t catch anyone’s attention. And he was glad for that. He couldn’t understand why the old him had supposedly enjoyed people’s fear since it seemed to be so much less bothersome not to catch anyone’s attention in the first place. 

His destination turned out to be a small apartment block with a Chinese restaurant on the ground floor. The door of the restaurant was right next to the open door leading to the rest of the building and the strong smell of frying food was filling the air inside. Shizuo walked down the narrow corridor with multiple doors on one side. After a while he realized there was something else in the air, too. Another smell, sweet and unsettling. It was vaguely familiar but Shizuo couldn’t recall what it was.

Unsure where he should go, he reached the end of the corridor and the final door in front of him on the wall closing it. He pushed the handle to check if it was locked and the door opened, revealing a brightly lit room with white tiled floor and walls.

“Hello, Shizuo-kun. I’m just finishing this,” a young man in glasses, green scrubs and a surgical mask greeted him.

He was standing over an operating table, accompanied by several more figures in surgical scrubs and masks, with a scalpel in his hand. His plastic gloves were all covered in blood.

Someone was lying on the table but the attached monitor showed a flat line in place of a heartbeat. Nobody was rushing to bring that person back to life though. Why an operation was performed in such a place at all? Something felt off about the whole situation to Shizuo. Nonetheless, he entered the room and closed the door behind him before removing his hood.

“I have one more to take care of, though,” the man continued talking light-heartedly, while reaching inside the body in front of him and taking something out. “We can talk once I’m done with him. Celty saw you with that one yesterday, actually. Was he bothering you?”

Shizuo looked to where the man motioned with his head. A boy in a school uniform was sitting in a chair there. Or rather he was tied to it with his arms held together in the back and half his face covered by a strip of adhesive tape glued over his mouth. When Shizuo looked at him he mumbled something and started struggling but the ties held him down. It was that kid who supposedly worked with Izaya, Shizuo realized, Aoba, the one who had shown him the way to his apartment the previous day. Why was he here, tied down like that? And what did these people intend to do to him? Had he been kidnapped simply because of Shizuo talking to him?

“You told me to come here,” Shizuo spoke up. “Are you Kishitani?”

“Of course.” The man in glasses laughed, continuing to operate. “What kind of a question is this? And I didn’t tell you to come here right now, right? This won’t take much longer though.”

Aoba continued squirming and making strangled noises.

“What do you plan to do to him?” Shizuo asked, the whole situation putting him more and more on edge, as he started understanding what was going on in front of him and not liking it one bit.

He felt as if the other people in the room were starting to stare at him, too. And with their faces partially covered by surgical masks that felt quite disconcerting.

“The same thing we always do, Shizuo-kun,” Kishitani answered good-naturedly. “Celty will try his head on. And whatever else can be used will be sold.” He dropped something he’d retrieved from inside the body on the operating table into a bag filled with clear liquid before taking a surgical saw from one of his assistants and starting to cut off the body's head with a smile on his face. The sound sent chills down Shizuo's spine.

“Are you going to kill him?” Shizuo asked, motioning towards Aoba, wanting a straight answer.

Aoba’s desperate mumbling from behind the tape glued over his mouth seemed to be affirmative. Then Kishitani himself turned to look at Shizuo questioningly.

“Of course. What else would you expect?” he asked.

Shizuo let himself go in that moment, for the first time since he’d woken up like that. The bottled up rage at what he'd just witnessed exploded within him and he moved before he realized what he was exactly doing. He grabbed Kishitani, threw him away, pushed past random bodies arranging to block his way, yanked Aoba out of the chair, breaking the ties effortlessly, and dropped him to the ground. When he turned around to head to the door, the room in front of him was all ruined and its occupants were either down on the floor or cowering in fear close to the walls. Shizuo didn't exactly remember how that had happened. And that scared him. But at least he'd saved that kid. He walked past all these people, dragging Aoba along, and left, undisturbed. He exited the building a moment later. The cold night air that hit his face was soothing but he could still hear the sickening sound of the saw cutting through bone echoing in his ears.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he growled in Aoba’s direction before he gave it any thought.

This was no way to act towards a kid who had just been through something like this, he chastised himself.

Aoba removed the tape off his face with trembling hands and a hiss of pain before speaking up. His cheek was swollen as if he'd been hit.

“This is how people disappear, Heiwajima-san.”

“Will they pursue us?” Shizuo asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Let’s get away from here either way. I’ll give someone a call,” Aoba said and started walking away. He took a phone out of his pocket that apparently hadn't even been taken away from him.

In a matter of minutes, an inconspicuous white van stopped next to them on the curb. 

“We should go see Izaya-san,” Aoba said before getting into the car. "Both of us."

Shizuo followed him reluctantly. There were some kids Aoba’s age or barely older inside the van and they started staring at Shizuo intently right away. The car started moving. Shizuo wondered what all of them were doing out and about at such a late hour.

“Thank you, Heiwajima-san,” Aoba spoke up after a while, rubbing his wrists. They were bruised from the ties.

“Didn’t you find me with Izaya two days ago? I owed you one.” Shizuo shrugged. What he’d done wasn’t so incredible considering how easy it had been for him. He was also plain embarrassed by someone thanking him. “What happened?”

“Someone just snatched me off the street,” Aoba said.

“That’s how it always happens,” one of the kids in the car spoke up. “My sister disappeared like that last year. I doubt she's still alive. It was really fortunate Aoba wasn't killed.”

Shizuo took a look at Aoba’s face, set into a neutral expression. Back in that room his eyes had been wide with fear.

“Who are you guys?” Shizuo asked, looking around.

“We call ourselves the Blue Squares,” Aoba answered. “We’re a gang my brother founded to oppose the bad gangs.”

“The bad gangs?”

“There are quite a few around. You’ll hear about them sooner or later, Heiwajima-san,” Aoba answered vaguely.

“So your brother organized this?”

“Well, initially. My brother is in prison now.”

Shizuo didn’t ask what the story behind that was since that didn’t seem appropriate. He thought back to the situation he’d left behind in that strange operating room. The fear in the eyes of the people back there after what he’d done. He didn’t want to instill that fear in anyone anymore but those were supposedly the bad guys. Maybe it had been justified in this case. He realized his head was starting to hurt, a dull ache. He certainly didn’t want a kid to die a gruesome death right in front of him but he wasn't exactly proud of what he'd done anyway.

“We’re here,” Aoba said when the van stopped in front of Izaya’s apartment building.

The two of them alighted and the van left.

\---

Izaya was waiting in his office with a steaming cup of tea ready that he gave to Aoba as soon as Aoba entered the place, followed by Shizuo.

Namie steered Aoba to sit on the couch and looked him over for injuries while he was sipping the tea. 

“How do you feel?” Izaya asked him.

“Fine.” Aoba shrugged.

Izaya might have preferred him to make a better impression of a hurt child but he supposed Aoba was still looking pitiful enough, curled up on the couch, as small as he was, his face adorned with a red imprint left over by the adhesive tape and a bruise on his cheek.

“You saved his life, Shizu-chan,” Izaya addressed Shizuo. “I hope you understand that.”

Izaya didn’t want Shizuo to slide into any kind of self-pity and regret over what he'd done, whatever had happened at Kishitani’s place precisely. It was important for him to understand that he had been definitely doing the right thing.

“Thank you,” Izaya added.

“It didn’t feel good to be this violent,” Shizuo said thoughtfully.

“I don’t think you hurt anyone seriously, Heiwajima-san,” Aoba spoke up. “If that makes you feel better.”

“We were lucky Kishitani called Shizu-chan and invited him right at that moment,” Izaya pointed out.

“Why didn’t you tell me what it was he was really doing when we talked before I went there, Izaya?” Shizuo asked.

“You started thinking about him as an old friend," Izaya said. "I didn’t want to just bad-mouth him without any evidence on hand. You would have held it against me down the line if you stayed home because of what I said. It was better for you to see it with your own eyes.”

“Aoba-kun getting kidnapped had something to do with him helping me yesterday, right?” Shizuo sounded agitated.

“Maybe.” Izaya nodded. "That's not a given though."

“I have to talk to you in private, Izaya.”

“Go ahead,” Izaya started wheeling himself in the direction of one of the doors leading to the other rooms in the apartement. “Namie, stay here with Aoba-kun,” he addressed her.

Namie nodded. Izaya noted how her expression was one of vague disgust. He rolled his eyes at her and hoped Shizuo didn’t notice any of that.

He opened the door of his bedroom and wheeled himself inside. Shizuo followed him.

“What is it?” Izaya asked him, turning around to face him.

Shizuo was looking around. The window taking up one whole wall of the bedroom was indeed quite eye-catching. But other than that, there was nothing but the bed in the room. Izaya had had to get rid of everything else to clear up space for maneuvering with the wheelchair.

"Aoba-kun's a high school kid,” Shizuo spoke up. “And you make him run around doing dangerous things that lead to him ending up like that. What if I haven’t shown up there in time? How would you live with yourself if he died?”

“I don’t make Aoba-kun do anything, Shizu-chan. That’s one thing,” Izaya answered. “And the other thing is that plenty of random high-schoolers have been already killed by the monsters of Ikebukuro. It’s not about him trying to do something to make things better, it happens to everyone equally regardless of what they do or don't do.”

“Still, you shouldn’t let him do these things, Izaya. I heard Kishitani talking about how he was kidnapped because of being seen with me.”

"If they haven’t snatched him, they would have taken someone else. The Black Rider and the people who buy organs from them, both are bottomless pits. They’ll never stop.”

“I’ll help you stop them,” Shizuo declared. “But don’t get kids involved in this.”

“I’ll talk to Aoba-kun,” Izaya conceded. “But I doubt he’ll listen to me, you know. I was once like him, too. And I couldn't be talked out of this."

“Should I move now?” Shizuo asked. "Will they retaliate?"

“That’s possible.” Izaya said thoughtfully. “Not that you're in much danger, though the Black Rider is quite powerful. Do you want to come live here with me then?” 

“Here?” Shizuo asked, visibly unsure.

“There’s a spare bedroom here. And I’d feel better having you close by, truth to be told.”

“After what I did to you?”

“I trust you.” Izaya smiled. “The current you, that's it. And you haven’t done anything to me. Other than saving my friend's life today.”

Shizuo didn’t respond in kind about trusting him, too, Izaya noted. Not yet. It was still too much to ask.

“I’ll move here,” Shizuo agreed. “But I don’t want anyone’s help with that. I’ll bring my stuff here myself. Maybe get a taxi.”

“Do you need money?”

“No. I found some at my place. And in the meantime, take care of that kid, Izaya.”

“Of course.” Izaya nodded.

"They were already cutting someone up when I arrived there. Right in front of him."

"I understand, Shizu-chan," Izaya said seriously. Shizuo seemed to be quite bothered by what he'd seen, which was a good thing. "But he's thougher than he looks. He'll be ok."

“I’ll go back to my place now and pack in the morning,” Shizuo said and went out of the bedroom.

Izaya followed him.

“Aren’t you going home right now, Namie?” he asked. “Walk Shizuo downstairs, will you?”

Namie nodded and went to get her handbag, her face carefully neutral in front of Shizuo.

Once both she and Shizuo left, Izaya approached Aoba.

“You did great,” he said.

Aoba looked at him with an unnaturally somber expression from where he was still sitting on the couch with the empty cup in his hands. Their eyes were at about the same level with Izaya in the wheelchair.

“Dropping a phone into someone's drawer and getting oneself kidnapped isn't that difficult of a task,” Aoba said.

“You know what I mean, Aoba-kun.”

“Not exactly. That I didn’t piss my pants there? That I didn’t get myself killed a bit too soon? Or that I was looking pitiful enough for Heiwajima to want to save my life?”

“If you have to vent, sure, do that.” Izaya sighed. “The fact is that we succeeded. Thanks to you. And Namie’s brother's little act as Kishitani over the phone. Shizu-chan used his strength to do something we wanted.”

“I did that because you would have done the exact same thing, Izaya-san,” Aoba said. “Put your life on the line for the greater good.”

“Yes,” Izaya answered without hesitation.

“I was scared for a moment there,” Aoba confessed.

“I imagine. But you will get used to it.”

“That’s harsh.” Aoba sighed.

“There are things that have to be done, Aoba-kun. If we won’t do them, nobody will. Things will never change. Sacrifices have to be made."

“Still, we tricked Heiwajima.”

“For the greater good.”

“What if it’s a lie that he lost his memory at all?" Aoba asked. “Maybe he's just playing with us. It seems too good to be true to have found him the way we did anyway.”

“Shizu-chan’s not that cunning, Aoba-kun. He never was. This is our chance.” Izaya smiled reassuringly.

It was true they had randomly found Shizuo hurt in the street. Izaya had taken him to his place fully expecting to be killed by him when Shizuo woke up, as desperate as he’d been after Akane’s death. It seemed like a good enough end to him at that point. But then Shizuo turned out to be suffering from amnesia and Izaya jumped at the chance eagerly. They came up with the plan with Aoba almost immediately, before Shizuo woke up the next morning. Steering him right where they needed him to end up, making him use his strength not to kill, but to save a life.

Aoba might have not understood how profound that was. He didn’t know Shizuo much better than any other scary urban legend in the flesh but Izaya himself had spent years observing Shizuo and interacting with him and he could also remember all too well that day back in the second year of high school when Shizuo had murdered someone close to him just to prove a point. The opportunity to shape Shizuo to be a much better person was incredible.

“You really did great, Aoba-kun,” Izaya repeated.

Aoba sighed again and then finally smiled back at him.


	5. Chapter 5

“To what do I owe this honor?” Izaya asked, looking around the interior of the limousine he’d been invited to.

The ridiculously wide seats were covered in plush, not leather, and the door closed behind him on its own without making a sound. The car started moving. The driver in the front was behind a transparent partition. The man sitting next to Izaya in the back was wearing a suit but didn’t look like much of a businessman with his scruffy face and bald head.

“I’m Kine. I work for the Awakusu group,” he introduced himself.

“Orihara Izaya. I’m a second year high school student.”

“That’s not all there is to you though, is it?” Kine asked, looking at Izaya. “Mind if I smoke?”

“It’s your car, Kine-san.”

“You’re known for being able to hold your own in a fight against Heiwajima Shizuo,” Kine said, lighting up a cigarette.

“Maybe. More like run away from him. But why is Shizuo-kun of interest to you? He’s just a high-schooler like me.”

“We both know that’s not true either.” Kine looked at Izaya sharply.

“Whatever you may be suspecting him of, he’s still innocent until proven guilty,” Izaya said cautiously.

Kine took a deep drag out of his cigarette.

“Look, I’m not enamored with the idea of concerning myself with high-schoolers either,” he spoke up. “But that Heiwajima boy has the potential to mess up this place. A place where our company does business and owns property. And that is plagued by enough problems as is. There are already people wary of coming here because they heard about the new monster. He was already in several fights where people died. And being able to anticipate the future situation is important for us. That includes what he will become.”

“What do you want from me, though?”

“I have something for you actually, Orihara-kun.” Kine offered Izaya a binder. “We want you to keep an eye on Heiwajima. And Kishitani, while at it, because of his connection with the other monster. You’re admittedly in an advantageous position to do both. And we know you’ve been snooping around for information about these two already anyway. It seems our interests align here.”

Izaya took the binder.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s what you’ve been looking for.”

Izaya opened the binder and started looking through the papers inside. He realized these were descriptions of the evidence collected by the police at the scenes of murders where Shizuo had been a suspect. Izaya had had a vague idea already of what Shizuo had done but he’d never known the full extent of his crimes. Shuffling through these papers now, Izaya couldn’t really understand how all that could have been allowed to happen in the first place. The attached photos showed bodies crashed under cars, pierced through with traffic signs and other random pieces of metal, dismembered into parts, with faces punched in to the point the brain was showing.

“The police doesn’t deal with him in any efficient way,” Kine spoke up as if he understood what Izaya must have been thinking. “More like they choose not to deal with him at all. They’re used to that after letting the Black Rider do as he pleased for years. It’s as if these are just forces of nature. When they claim lives, it’s nobody’s fault.”

“Does your company want to do something about this?” Izaya asked from over the papers.

“That’s not what we had in mind.” Kine shook his head. “We just want to keep an eye on things. But if you ever have an idea how to actually do anything, sure, let us know.”

Izaya got to the last document in the binder.

“So that’s how it all started,” he muttered to himself after reading it more attentively than the other pages. “I’ll talk to Shizuo-kun.”

“You’ll talk to him?” Kine looked at Izaya as if he’d gone crazy.

“Shizuo-kun may seem to be a heartless monster, especially when looking at this.” Izaya motioned to the papers. “But he’s still a human being. I never really understood him. That’s why I was looking for some kind of an explanation in his past. This just might be it.” Izaya took out the last paper. “He must be hurting because of this.”

“I wouldn’t confront him about it if I were you, Orihara-kun. And that’s not why we gave these to you.”

”Thank you for you advice, Kine-san,” Izaya said with a smile. “And for this.” He pointed to the binder. “We’ll be seeing each other again, I presume?”

“Of course.” Kine nodded. “If you don’t get yourself killed first.”

They exchanged phone numbers then and the limousine turned around to take Izaya back to the front of Raijin.

When Izaya got out of the car, he ran straight into Mikage. She was just walking through the school gate. She was wearing the girl’s school uniform, skirt and all, which wasn’t usual for her but suited her just fine, and carrying her bag slung over one shoulder. She stopped next to him and surveyed the departing limousine with a displeased expression on her face.

“What’s this about?” she asked, letting the bag fall to the ground and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Friends in high places,” Izaya answered as if it was nothing unusual.

“You’re pestering me about staying out of trouble, Izaya, but you don’t heed your own advice. Of course.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

Izaya knew Mikage had a certain idea about him that he would’ve argued was divorced from reality. Sure, he was getting into fights, mostly with the intention of stopping them or leading the attacker away from the victim but she appreciated his ability without taking care to understand the context. It was the same way when it came to him forging ties with certain people. She didn’t seem willing to accept that he wasn’t doing that for personal gain.

“Whatever you say.” She just shrugged.

“I helped you, Mikage-chan, didn’t I?”

Mikage looked at him as if she was going to argue but after a moment of hesitation she nodded instead.

Because Izaya had helped her. She’d been on her way right into delinquency with the kind of fights she’d been getting into. As a girl, she didn’t get to fight the kinds of opponents she wanted, so she’d roamed the streets at night in her big brother’s old school uniform, picking fights and tricking guys she’d been facing into thinking they’d been fighting a boy. She’d come to Izaya like that as well, lured in by his ability to go against Heiwajima. But what she’d got out of their meeting wasn’t a fight. For one Izaya had known already that she was a girl, a troubled girl at that. And he understood that what she needed was acknowledgment. He was willing to give it to her if it meant stopping her descent into darkness.

The school had erupted with rumors about the two of them dating as soon as they’d started hanging out together after classes but it wasn’t actually like that. Even though the way Mikage was staring at him sometimes when she thought he wasn’t looking made him consider if she might have actually harbored some feelings for him.

“Yes, you helped me,” she agreed in the end. “But why bring it up now?”

“I want to help Heiwajima, too,” Izaya declared with a smile.

Mikage’s eyes narrowed.

“This is a bad idea,” she said. “And you should know that already. Maybe better than most. I wouldn’t get close to him if I were you.”

“He’s my friend, Mikage-chan,” Izaya pointed out. “And no offence, but you don’t even know him.”

“Everyone knows how he is.”

“Didn’t everyone know how you were, too?" Izaya asked, starting to sound annoyed. "I found out something about him,” he added. “And I intend to talk to him about it. But I’ll be careful. Don’t worry about me.”

Mikage blushed under his gaze when he said that and Izaya felt certain satisfaction at being able to affect her like that. Who knew what could yet happen between the two of them, he thought. He’d always assumed he was meant for bigger things and shouldn’t get needlessly side-tracked with becoming preoccupied with just one human being when so many others needed his assistance as well but maybe Mikage was just the person who had it in her to grow on him one day. After all, she was a very special girl, if only because of her fighting ability.

The two of them parted ways. Izaya could still feel her gaze on him as he was walking away.

The next day at school he spent a fair amount of time staring at the back of Shizuo’s head in class to the point Shizuo turned around and snarled at him like a wild animal in the middle of the lecture. Izaya merely smiled back at him.

He could understand now why Shizuo had been stuttering so badly back when he’d been introducing himself to the class as a single child. He must have been struggling to contain his secret. After all, taking a hold of himself wasn’t his strong suit at all.

According to the papers Izaya had gotten from the Awakusu the start of everything had been Shizuo murdering his own little brother back when he’d been still an elementary school kid. It had been the last page at the bottom of the binder. The oldest piece of evidence of how deranged Shizuo actually was. It was as if committing that one crime, most likely inadvertently, had made it unimportant how many other people he was yet to kill. At least that was what Izaya presumed Shizuo must have been thinking. It was a fact that Shizuo shouldn't expect anyone to pity him at this point. But offering understanding to him might have still been just what was needed to stop him.

Izaya was of course aware that Shizuo hated him, ever since the two of them had first met. Shizuo had tried to scare him away right then and there. It probably didn’t sit right with him that Shinra, the only person who had been making the effort to be his friend, had turned his attention to Izaya. Of course, Izaya didn't let Shizuo scare him. And that seemed to irk Shizuo to no end.

On the other hand Izaya was fairly certain that Shizuo was letting him go on purpose during their fights and that he was holding back to an extent. Which meant that either deep down he wanted Izaya to stop him or he preferred to keep playing with him instead of ending his life. Izaya considered both options at first but he chose to bet on Shizuo’s humanity.

“What do you want, flea?” Shizuo asked him in a voice that was already irritated when Izaya followed him to the roof after class.

Izaya watched as all the students who had been there already gathered their things and left in a hurry. In no time it was just the two of them on the empty roof. Shizuo leaned back against the railing of the rooftop and lit up a cigarette. Izaya bit back the remark about the consequences of smoking at school once caught. He was fairly certain that nobody would have been willing to confront Shizuo about it either way.

“Let’s talk,” he offered.

“I don’t talk to you, flea,” Shizuo said off-handedly.

“Because? It’s not like you’re overflowing with company.” Izaya smiled, looking around pointedly.

“Get lost.” Shizuo turned his back to Izaya and continued smoking, looking up at the sky.

“I wanted to be friends with you since we first met.”

“No, you didn’t." Shizuo shrugged. "We got into a fight right away. And I’m not friends with anyone anyway.”

“Whose fault was that fight, Shizuo-kun?” Izaya asked Shizuo’s back before approaching him. “If you go on acting as if violence can be your only answer to everything, this will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Izaya reached out his hand. And as soon as the tips of his fingers brushed Shizuo’s sleeve, he was grabbed and unceremoniously thrown against the railing. Shizuo cornered him, towering over him with his height, forcing him to look up. His face was already scrunched up in fury.

“It’s not my reaction to everything,” he hissed with the cigarette between his lips. “But you and your fancy words annoy me.”

Izaya took out his knife and pressed it to Shizuo’s jugular without thinking, his body tensing in preparation for a fight.

“Is that how you want to talk to me, Izaya-kun?” Shizuo smiled triumphantly, leaning down so that the blade broke his skin. Blood stained the collar of the dress shirt he was wearing under the uniform jacket but he wasn’t bothered by this and it was as deep as the knife would go.

Blades didn’t penetrate Shizuo's flesh and Izaya was well aware of that at this point. He had never seen a being like this before. And sometimes he thought how Shizuo was really just a monster and how there was no better way to deal with him than by slaughtering him as mercilessly as he himself dealt with his victims. That it wouldn’t even have been a murder, with how non-human Shizuo was. But Izaya didn’t want such thoughts. It wasn’t his intention to become another monster by overpowering one. If people around him would have ever feared him, he imagined it would have been insufferable.

“Hear me out,” Izaya spoke up, looking up into Shizuo’s eyes, hoping to be able to at least say something before he was chased away. “I know about your little brother.”

Shizuo’s eyes darkened instantly.

“What do you know about him?” he asked in a deadly serious voice.

“I know that you had one and that he’s dead. His name was Kasuka.”

“And?”

“And I understand you’re in pain.”

“You don’t understand shit, Izaya.” Shizuo growled.

For a moment there, Izaya felt primordial fear, as if this time around, he was going to die for sure. But then Shizuo let him go and took a step back.

The arm with the knife fell to Izaya’s side.

Shizuo spit the rest of the cigarette out of his mouth. It landed right next to Izaya’s shoes. Then he turned around and started walking away.

“Then explain it to me,” Izaya spoke up. “Tell me what really happened. I want to understand.”

Shizuo stopped and looked at Izaya over his shoulder.

Izaya stood his ground and held his gaze.

“You want to understand, flea? Fine. I’ll show you how it feels,” Shizuo said with a sudden maniacal glint in his eyes. Then he turned away, cracked his knuckles and walked to the door leading back to the building. It closed behind him silently.

There was no way to stop him, Izaya thought, and hid his knife. Shizuo’s reaction had been quite unusual. Instead of getting angry and lunging at him as always, he’d become scarily calm and walked away. That was possibly not a good sign and Izaya was feeling somewhat uneasy. But he made himself stop. He wasn’t going to be deterred by that. He hoped to breach the subject again soon.

~~~

It was the middle of the night when Izaya woke up from restless sleep filled with dreams of back then, just like on so many other nights. Of how later on the day he'd confronted Shizuo about his brother's death, alerted by the commotion on the sports grounds, he’d found Mikage there, dying in a puddle of blood.

“He asked me if you loved me more than your sisters,” she whispered once Izaya kneeled down next to her. Her face was a bloody mess and she probably shouldn't speak. “I told him that you do. To try to stop him,” she sounded almost apologetic. “He knows the name of their school.”

That was all she managed to say before slipping away. There were a lot of people around but nobody was doing anything. Shizuo had left undisturbed once he’d been done. Mikage died before help arrived.

Later, Izaya pieced back together everything that had happened during her fight with Shizuo, goading and bullying the witnesses into telling him all they knew. He wasn’t proud of that. And it didn’t change anything anyway.

Back then he rushed to his sisters’ school after hearing Mikage’s words but nobody had seen Shizuo there. Mikage’s sacrifice might have been enough for Shizuo. Or it might have been not. Izaya begged his parents to take the twins abroad with them the very next day.

Shizuo never showed up at school again after that.

Shinra admitted to Izaya that he was the one who had told him where to find Mairu and Kururi. That was the last time Izaya had ever willingly talked to him.

“Fuck,” Izaya muttered to himself.

He didn’t like the feelings that were stirred in him by remembering all that. It was difficult enough to convince himself every day that what he was doing wasn’t done for vengeance. He didn’t need the hate that was twisting his insides now.

He sat up in bed. And as preoccupied as he was with the memory of his dreams, for a moment he couldn’t understand why his legs were feeling so numb. Then the realization hit him as hard as always.

He got out of bed and into the wheelchair, groaning in pain, and wheeled himself out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He turned on the lights only when he got there and opened the bottom cupboard. But what he was looking for wasn’t there anymore. He cursed under his breath again. Namie must have noticed. She'd probably moved the bottle to the top cupboard once she had.

Izaya looked up longingly but there was no way, of course.


End file.
